


The Best Medicine

by Teaotter



Category: Rosemary Kirstein - the Steerswoman series
Genre: F/F, F/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006, recipient:silk_knickers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/pseuds/Teaotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most substances considered to be aphrodisiacs aren't, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Medicine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silk_knickers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silk_knickers/gifts).



> This story contains spoilers for the series through the end of _The Lost Steersman_.

"Bloody stupid old cow," Rowan muttered under her breath, not for the first time.

Somewhere in this building was the book she was looking for -- Latitia's logbook from forty-two years ago, describing her reason for searching out the wizard Kieran. The Steerswoman's Annex at Alemeth was supposed to contain a copy of every steerswoman's journal, in case something happened to the Archives at Wulfshaven.

Those words "supposed to" had been appearing in Rowan's life a lot lately. The steerswoman assigned to the Annex was also supposed to organize and index the books, and keep them in good repair. Unfortunately, the last steerswoman assigned here, Mira, had done none of these things. So searching for Latitia's notes, which should have been an errand of minutes, had so far taken weeks, with no end in sight.

Rowan looked around at the rows of shelves. It was hard to imagine that these books had ever been organized. She could almost imagine that Mira had deliberately mixed them, if she didn't have so much evidence of the woman's innate laziness. It was more likely that she just hadn't given a damn.

Rowan's left side was still paining her, but not so badly that she couldn't walk with her cane. Just badly enough that she didn't want to walk far. The burns she'd received in the Demon Lands were healing, slowly. Rowan spent a moment deciding if she wanted to continue working here in the stacks, or to make her way to the main room for a break.

The rhythmic thunking of Zenna's crutches announced the other steerswoman's presence in the common room, and made up Rowan's mind. In the short time since Zenna had arrived to replace Mira, she'd done more to organize the books than Rowan had accomplished in all her months there.

Rowan took her cane and hobbled into the common room. She was still much slower than Zenna, despite the fact that she had two good legs to the other steerswoman's one. They'd made quite the pair, clumping around the Annex over the last few weeks: two weatherworn women, tans slowly fading into paleness as they adjusted to life indoors. For Zenna, this was a permanent post, but Rowan hoped to be back on the road soon. As soon as they found Latitia's journal.

"One of the local children brought something for you," Zenna called as Rowan came in. She gestured toward an earthenware jar on the table and sat down in one of the softer chairs. "She said it was a moth?"

Rowan sat in the solid wood chair she preferred, leaning her cane against the table leg absently. She missed her sword, but she could hardly carry herself these days.

"It's probably one of the phosphorescent moths," she explained. "The Spider wife's apprentice brought me one before you came."

The jar had a slightly dusty square of cheesecloth tied across the opening. Rowan turned the jar upside down before removing it. She covered the mouth of the jar with her hand and turned it back upright.

"I've heard about your method for examining insects, but I haven't seen you do this before." Zenna watched the demonstration with interest.

"It's not hard." Rowan waited until she felt the tiny grip of the moth's feet on her fingers, and then turned the jar and her hand around in quick circles. "If you make them dizzy enough, they'll sit on your hand for a minute before flying off."

She turned the whole thing back over so her hand was again on the bottom, and carefully lifted the jar away.

On her hand, the moth sat quietly. In size and shape, it was very similar to the moth she'd seen months ago, with four wings and four oddly jointed legs. Its two rows of ruby eyes glinted up at her. But instead of a shimmering green, in body and wings, this moth was bright orange. Its wings were also less matte than the other, and seemed almost wet.

"That's not a color I've seen before," she commented.

"It's bright enough," Zenna agreed, "you could see it a long way."

Rowan lifted a careful finger and felt the edge of the wing. Sure enough, a smear of gelid orange came off on her hand, almost like paint.

"An attractant, perhaps?" she wondered aloud. "Or a warning to predators?"

"Or a protection?" Zenna asked pointedly.

"It seems unlikely the children would bring an insect they knew was dangerous without warning me," Rowan said.

Nonetheless, she quickly replaced the moth in the jar and cleaned her finger carefully on a cloth. Many of the animals of the Outskirts gave off substances that could irritate the skin, or even burn like the demons' acid spray.

"Let's see if Steffie has any answers."

She sent Zenna off to find the young man as she went to wash her hands thoroughly, in case the moth wing substance was corrosive.

Steffie had grown up in Alemeth, and had been the first person to explain to Rowan about the moths. The local children liked to catch them and squeeze the juices from them, which made a phosphorescent paint. The children would play pranks on adults, swooping down on them at night in this glowing paint. Or on visiting steerswomen.

Steffie spent most of his time these days in the Annex, helping organize and, at the moment, search for Latitia's logbook. He had determined that he wanted to be a steersman, and was studying for the next training Academy to be held at Wulfshaven. He was usually happy to answer any questions he could about the local wildlife, getting a studious and excited expression whenever the opportunity arose. Rowan remembered wearing an expression somewhat like that on her own face at the beginning of her studies.

But the look she anticipated dropped off Steffie's face as soon as Rowan described the occupant of the jar. She would have been more worried, except it was replaced not by concern but by a quick blush and an embarrassed demeanor.

"Ah. Those," Steffie coughed. "They're found in the same places as the other moths; sometimes they change color like that."

"Do the children use them the same way?" Zenna asked.

"No!" Steffie sank into a nearby chair. "No. They're... Well, folks make a love potion out of them."

Ah. That would explain his embarrassment. Rowan grinned. "How so? What is the potion made from?"

"Just -- the orange color off their wings." Steffie shrugged. "If it gets on your skin, it makes you..." he mumbled something into his collar, turning an even brighter red.

Rowan glanced at Zenna and tried to put a serious expression on her face. "So I just dosed myself with an aphrodisiac?"

Zenna caught her eye and started laughing, loud and strong. Rowan tried to frown seriously, but felt it slip into a smile. It felt good to smile. Steffie finally looked up from the floor and joined in, laughing.

"What did I miss?" Bel stomped the mud from her boots, then stepped quietly through the front door.

The Outskirter had been spending most of Rowan's convalescence within shouting distance of the Annex, and the noise they had all been making must have attracted her attention. She was a small, wiry woman with too much energy to want to stay in amongst the books. Rowan knew that Bel would have been happier to have left weeks before, but was staying until Rowan was well enough to travel with her.

"Rowan's got a love moth." Steffie pointed at the pot with one hand and half-strangled himself with the other, trying not to laugh.

Bel raised an eyebrow at the lot of them. "Does it find your true love for you? Or do you eat it?"

Her tone set off more giggling from Zenna and Steffie.

"No, no!" he managed at last, panting. "You just rub it on your skin."

Bel eyed him with mild suspicion. "How strong are the effects?"

"Oh, they're pretty harmless. Just, if you were leaning that way already, it makes you less nervous. Maisie's girls use them sometimes on customers, for fun." He blushed again, almost drowning out his freckles. "I've heard some folks say they can make you crazy enough to chase anybody, but I've never seen that."

"You've used them before." Rowan was careful not to make it a question, so he wouldn't have to answer her.

But he did anyway -- still blushing, but grinning, too. "Yes, I did. And I liked it well enough to ask to have that one when you're done!"

Rowan couldn't help laughing at that. "Very well," she agreed.

Her friends wandered off to their own searches, leaving Rowan at the work table. She considered returning to the stacks, but now that the moment of laughter had fled, she found herself a bit too tired to make her way back to the shelves. Instead, she pulled out her log book and began taking notes of her observations about the moth and the local customs surrounding it. She added a second drawing, comparing this one to the one she'd seen before.

After an hour without any ill effects from the wing paint, Rowan finally gave in to her own curiosity. Using a long swab, she dabbed a little of the color off the wings of the moth, and put it on a small patch on her inner wrist.

Bel, who'd come in during the process, raised her eyebrows. "Are you in any shape to use that?"

Rowan snorted. "Not for the usual purpose, no. But most substances considered to be aphrodisiacs aren't, really. They may increase blood flow, or create a mild euphoria. Or have no effect at all, if you don't believe in them. As it doesn't seem to be dangerous, I thought I'd see if it could be a useful medication."

Over the next hour, Rowan noticed some extra warmth around her wrist and hand, but no redness or swelling. She also noticed that her side hurt a great deal less, or that she cared less. In either case, a respite from the nearly constant pain was more than welcome.

When the others came back to the main room for dinner, Steffie noticed the orange patch on her arm. He waggled his eyebrows at her comically.

"I'm sorry, Steffie," Rowan told him, with mock-sadness. "It doesn't seem to have that effect on me."

He gave a big sigh, then grinned. "Maybe it's a spell, and you're immune because you're a steerswoman."

"Maybe so," she agreed.

"Steerswomen and sailors, right?" Zenna moved closer. Rowan recognized the glint in her friend's dark eyes and tried to act as casual as possible. "So I'm doubly immune."

Of course, for Rowan, trying to hide information simply meant making her face blank, and Steffie was frowning at her instead of watching Zenna. Who trailed a finger through the orange on Rowan's wrist.

And swiped it on Steffie's cheek. "But you're not!"

She took off with a roaring laugh, her crutches making quick thunks against the floorboards.

Steffie gaped for a minute in surprise, then got a thoughtful grin and chased after her, laughing.

Rowan laughed, a great rolling laugh that felt like it had been building all day. She laughed for what felt like hours, her breath coming in large gasps until she calmed enough to see Bel watching her smugly.

"You feel better," the Outskirter pronounced solemnly.

Rowan did feel better; she felt better than she had in weeks. But she had to ask. "What makes you think that?"

Bel considered her carefully for a long moment, then nodded, as if she'd come to some kind of decision. "I haven't seen you laugh like that in a long time."

"I suppose not." They all knew how close she'd come to dying in the Demon Lands. Rowan herself was still unsure how well she would heal from her burns. But the fact that she could laugh again was the best sign that she would fully recover, in spirit, at least.

Before she could find words to express that, a crash and more squealing laughter came from the kitchen.

Bel stood up and offered her a hand. "I think you should go upstairs before they trip over you."

Rowan took the hand, and the help to her feet. It hadn't been that long since Bel and Steffie were practically carrying her around the Annex, and the stairs always put a strain on her leg. The trip seemed a lot less daunting tonight, however, and she glanced over at her friend wryly.

"You're not going to take advantage of me, are you?" she asked as they paused on the landing for her to catch her breath.

Bel smiled at her slowly, then winked. "Only if you ask very nicely."


End file.
